And o

how I like to come here and type. No one reading; someone reading; invisible women and invisible men.

Semicolons. Short sentences.



The way I imagine everyone's voices sound.

Like a 1970's Fiat horn.
Like Foghorn Leghorn.
Like baby
you fucked me so hard I feeled like I was being born.
True and

o so many stories. And o so many lies. Naturally. I mean. Come on.

Avoiding every word not typed on the Nine; aging former beauties being nicer than twenty years ago [hanging out on FB]. The globe spinning.

Seasons, etc.

And me. Always me. Fingers resting on the same letters as the day before.

Hoping for a dream to come thru. A soothe.

An opportunity to make a typer feel like something better than a failure.

It is true. The asdf is my only friend but

I prize the hint of a love affair. And making the sex with the pretty.

Over and over again. Hey man.

I have been logging on forever.

And it is becuz I cherish the way the words look trailing behind the cursor.

I love you sweet babies. Wherever you are. Whatever you do.